Page 2 of The Laird's Masked Passion

A chill moved through Elspeth, though the fire continued its poor, smoky labor. Before she could reply, a bell sounded from somewhere down the street that seemed to enter through the floorboards and settle in her bones.

“I will see ifallis ready,” her father suddenly said. “Morven, finish her.”

He paused upon the threshold and looked back, not at Elspeth, but at his wife, in a warning without words. Then he was gone.

The room seemed to exhale. Her mother seized Elspeth’s hands with such sudden desperation that Elspeth nearly cried out.

“Dae ye ken,” her mother whispered, “what happens between a man and a woman in the marriage bed?”

Elspeth stared at her. Of all the questions that might have emerged from her mother’s mouth,thiswas so violently unexpected that Elspeth felt as if the floor had shifted beneath her.

“I beg yer pardon?”

Her mother’s fingers tightened. “Answer me. Quickly.”

“I… nay. Of course, I dinnae. Why should I?” Heat rushed into Elspeth’s face, chasing shock with mortification. “Maither, why are ye asking me such a thing? It is Rose who marries today. If anyone requires instruction, surely?—”

“Hush.” Her mother glanced toward the door. “There is nay time.”

“Nae time fer what?”

Her mother’s eyes returned to hers, and Elspeth saw then something worse than fear. She sawpity.

“Me darling,” her mother whispered, and the endearment broke as it left her, “it isnae pleasant.”

Elspeth went still.

Her mother’s words came faster now. “Ye must lie still if ye can. Dinnae fight him unless… unless he is the sort of man who will be made worse by it. It is best nae tae scream. Tears may anger him. If he is anything like?—”

She stopped. Elspeth’s blood seemed to withdraw from her hands.

“Like Faither?” she whispered.

Her mother closed her eyes. The room changed. It remained the same in its outward particulars of green curtains and the smoking fire, but Elspeth knew she would never see it again without remembering the sudden sickening comprehension that her mother had not been speaking from instruction received, but from experience endured.

“Nay,” Elspeth replied, because denial was easier than understanding. “This is absurd. Why are ye telling me this?”

Her mother swallowed. Her eyes flew again to the door.

“Maither,” Elspeth gasped, and her voice no longer sounded quite her own. “What have ye done?”

The latch lifted. Her mother dropped Elspeth’s hands and snatched up a veil with trembling haste. Her father entered, bringing with him the cold authority of the corridor.

“The wedding is prepared,” he announced. “We leave now.”

Elspeth looked from him to her mother. “Are we going tae Rose’s wedding?”

Her father’s expression did not alter. “Come.”

For the first time in her life, Elspeth didn’t merely suspect her father could be cruel. She felt the shape of it closing around her.

“I willnae move,” she mustered, “until someone tells me what is happening.”

Her father crossed the room in three strides and took her by the arm. His fingers closed hard enough to bruise.

Her mother made a small sound. “Thomas?—”

He looked at her, and the sound died.